


Human Error

by VampyrePrince



Series: Unrequited [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampyrePrince/pseuds/VampyrePrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an interesting night with Sherlock, John has a serious discussion with Mary. Sherlock needs to know the truth, and the truth always hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human Error

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to those that have read the series so far. I'm not sure where I'm going with it, but bear with me. I'm having a lot of fun with it, as awful as that is to say. 
> 
> I had to update this on my phone, so forgive any errors.

“It's late, Sherlock. I'm sorry but I don't think I'm going to be able to come back to the flat tonight.”

“Mary's been having complications.” John frowned and nodded, stepping into the cab that pulled over to receive them on the curb. 

“Yeah, she has. Bit worried, but things seem to be alright. Most likely due to the stress that she underwent last month after everything that happened. I've been keeping an eye on her myself, but I just want to be there.” Sherlock huddled against the window and watched the scenery as they started moving, John falling silent and resting his head against his window on the opposite side of the cab. He glanced over at Sherlock a few times, the detective seeming tired and out of sorts. It wasn't like him to be so openly vulnerable. “You alright?” 

“Hm?” Sherlock turned to look at John, resting back against the seat in an attempt to disguise his discomfort. 

“Something wrong?” The detective shook his head slowly, his eyes diverting from John's.

“Nope.” 

“You're not upset that I have to go home tonight, are you?”

“Not in the slightest.” The detective resumed his earlier position by the window, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned on the armrest on the door.

“I've been visiting you at least three times a week, what more do you want? I've been working and trying to support Mary as well.” 

“Married life is so tedious.”

“You sound like a spoiled brat.” Sherlock smiled and scooted closer to John, wrapping an arm around him.

“You're the one who's spoiled me.” The doctor shrugged him off and shrunk back, his eyes darting up to the from where the driver was focusing on the road, then back to Sherlock.

“Jesus, don't do that. Not in public, we agreed.”

“People already suspect it.”

“That doesn't mean we need to fuel the rumors.” John lowered his voice and leaned over to whisper into Sherlock's ear. “Cabbies always listen in on conversation so please keep your voice down.” A spark of mischief lit up behind Sherlock's eyes and the doctor's heart began to beat faster, his nerves spiking. “Whatever you're thinking the answer is no.”

“Oh it's nothing that involves any sort of conversation.” John flinched as a hand crept up his thigh and squeezed. “I highly doubt either of us will be able to speak, anyway.” The doctor's hand shot to Sherlock's wrist, gripping it tightly before it could move any higher. He hissed between his teeth to keep from raising his voice in agitation.

“Not. Now.” The detective tried his best to look innocent.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, John.” 

“Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

“Nothing of the sort.” Sherlock ran his thumb in circles on the doctor's thigh, massaging the area until John's jeans began to grow tight. He lost his grip on the detective's wrist as a rush of arousal coursed through his stomach. Sherlock took the chance to move his hand higher until he was pressing against the doctor's half hard erection, squeezing until John let out a quiet whimper.

“God don't do this here.” He glanced up nervously at the rear view mirror to see that the driver was preoccupied with the road and traffic. “Don't you have any sense of decency?”

“Of course, but I can't help it when you're sitting in such close proximity.”

“I've created a monster.” John drew in a sharp breath as Sherlock rubbed him harder through his jeans, and quickly covered it up by clearing his throat. The detective leaned over and bit John's ear as he glanced at the mirror up front, just barely whispering so John could hear him over the traffic outside.

“A monster? No, not quite. An addiction, yes. Now keep quiet and watch the driver. I estimate we have approximately ten minutes until we reach your flat.” John cursed under his breath as Sherlock sunk low, angling his body to get better leverage. He worked John's pants open and tugged at them until they were just barely low enough to slip a hand inside. Leather clad fingers wrapped around his cock and pulled it out of his pants, Sherlock wasting no time in completely engulfing him. 

John covered his mouth and looked out the window, his other hand gripping Sherlock's curls as he tried to control his breathing. He rocked his hips and bit into his fist as he felt his cock hit the back of Sherlock's throat repeatedly, a groan escaping his lips that he couldn't suppress. He looked nervously at the mirror up front, the cabbie staring right back at him. 

“Alright back there?” John swallowed hard and squeezed his fist until it hurt.

“Fine, fine.” His voice squeaked slightly as he attempted to look back out the window.

“Wasn't there two of you when you got in?” 

“Yeah, um... He... he fell asleep on the seat.” The cabbie smiled and focused back on the road ahead.

“It is getting rather late. Almost there anyway.” John let out the breath he had been holding slowly, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth. He felt Sherlock shift and watched as the detective rubbed his erection through his trousers. 

“Sherlock. Hey Sherlock...” John's toes curled as he came, Sherlock's mouth still wrapped around his cock. The detective groaned as he sat back up, his lips closed tightly and his head leaning back against the seat. He swallowed and wiped his mouth as John refastened his jeans. “Jesus Christ.”

“You didn't want to go back to the flat.”

“We're almost to my place. We'll talk when we get there. I'll hold the cab.”

“You're seriously angry with me?”

“No, not angry. God no. That was just reckless.”

“Daring and exciting would have been better word choices.” They both broke out into laughter as the cab pulled over to the curb. The detective was out first and came round to meet John, who told the driver to wait a moment and pulled Sherlock inside the building. He pushed the taller man against the wall and pressed their lips together. John whispered between kisses.

“You. Fucking. Sex. Fiend.” They parted for breath, Sherlock pressing against John's body as his erection throbbed.

“Not afraid of being seen?”

“No one's awake at this hour.”

“Are you sure about that?” John paused and stared into Sherlock's eyes, then followed them as he turned around to see Mary standing on the stairway in her robe grinning like an idiot. She leaned against the railing and waved a hand toward Sherlock.

“By all means continue. I didn't mean to interrupt.” John's face turned dark red and he spun around quickly, grabbing a fistful of Sherlock's jacket. He had gone from amorous to pissed in seconds.

“Why didn't you say something sooner?” Sherlock smirked and winked at Mary, then gently pushed John off of him. He slid toward the front door and pushed it open.

“Off tomorrow? Good, see you at Scotland Yard around noon.” 

And then he was gone.

* * *

The next morning John wandered into the dining room to find breakfast already laid out, Mary sitting at the table flipping through the paper. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” She closed the papers and set them aside, taking a sip of her tea. “A very good morning I imagine.”

“What?”

“You had to have done more than just kiss him last night.” John fell into his chair and crossed his arms, a guilty smile crossing his face. 

“What makes you think that?”

“That's been the pattern, hasn't it? You're always positively glowing when you come home from being with Sherlock. Sometimes I wonder if I can still do that much for you.” John's smile fell from his face and he leaned forward.

“What are you talking about? I love it when we have sex.”

“You sure you don't prefer it with him?” 

“What's brought this on? You were fine with it last night, and now you're becoming insecure?” Mary sighed and stood to approach John's side of the table, leaning over and kissing him on the forehead. She cringed in pain as she stood back up, holding her stomach.

“Don't get me wrong, everything is fine. You've just been spending quite a bit of time over there. I've started worrying you've forgot that you were married.”

“Mary...” John stood and embraced her, rubbing her back. “I love you, Mary. No one else, alright?”

“You don't love Sherlock?” John grew silent and Mary pulled away, gazing into his eyes. “You do.”

“No, no I don't. Not like that. I love him, yeah, but as a best mate.”

“Shouldn't you tell him that before he gets the wrong idea?” 

“He knows I'm married.”

“That doesn't matter. He loves _you_ , and you have been accepting his advances. If it were me, I'd have thought it was more than just being a best friend.” John's appetite faded and he sunk back into his chair, resting his head in his hands. He was hoping things could just go unsaid, continue on as they were. Things were fine that way, weren't they? Yeah, he'd grown to love sex with Sherlock, but that was it. They were just best friends – best friends with benefits. He'd thought with Sherlock's awesome powers of deduction he'd figured that much out. The detective hadn't been himself lately, though. He was still brilliant, solving cases and performing at the top of his game, but he had also become obsessed with John's intimacy. Whenever they were near each other Sherlock's hands were somewhere on him rather it be sexual or not. 

John groaned and rubbed his eyes, looking back up at Mary who was still wearing a very concerned expression. “I told him it was fine. It was all fine. That I would try whatever it was we were doing.”

“That's all well, but did you specify what 'it' was going to be?”

“No, I've never told him it was anything.”

“Then he's probably assuming you're in some sort of relationship. He may be a genius, John, but he doesn't understand human emotion like you or me. You have to tell him straight.” John snorted and stood, starting in the direction of the bathroom.

“Nothing straight about it. I'm going to get ready to leave. I have a few things to do before I meet him at Scotland Yard. You going to be alright?” Mary smiled and reclaimed her original chair, continuing with her breakfast.

“I'll be fine. Are you going to eat?”

“I'll heat it up when I get out of the shower if I've got time.”

“Alright. And John?” The doctor paused and turned to see Mary watching him seriously.

“Either you tell him or I will.”

“I'm going to tell him. Don't worry.”

* * *

It was five past noon by the time John managed to arrive at Scotland Yard. He jogged through the building until he reached Lestrade's office to find Sherlock arguing with the DI. He cleared his throat and silence fell, Sherlock standing from his chair and placing his hands in his pockets. “John. Taking your time I see.”

“Traffic was awful as always, get over it.” They shared a smile before the conversation over their latest case began. As interesting as it all was, John was having difficulty catching any of the words being tossed between the two detectives. His brain was reeling with the best way to tell Sherlock the truth, and worrying like mad over how the man would take it. Hopefully Mary had been wrong and Sherlock was aware of where they stood, but even John knew there was a higher chance of that not being the case.

He had zoned off completely and wasn't aware of the two men staring blankly at him. Lestrade leaned forward and snapped his fingers. “John, you alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. What was the last thing you said?” Sherlock looked worried. He was staring at John in an attempt to find some silent answer, most likely deducing how his night and morning went. John stiffened at the invasion of privacy, apologized to Lestrade, and stepped out for a moment to find the water cooler. Sherlock wasted no time in following behind, grabbing the doctor's hand before it was able to reach a paper cup.

“Tell me what's wrong, you've been sulking the entire visit.”

“When we leave, Sherlock. It's not something we can discuss here.” The detective turned and muttered something to Lestrade back in his office, then came back and grabbed John's arm, hauling him out of the building. The doctor ripped his arm out of Sherlock's grasp and followed silently behind as they approached the doors to the outside, both men pushing through them and stopping on the sidewalk to face each other. The detective attempted to stand closer to John, but the doctor back away slowly, causing Sherlock pause. 

“John, what's going on? Is it Mary?”

“Why don't you deduce me and find out?” Sherlock remained silent at that and tried once more to close the distance between them, stopping just in front of the doctor.

“Have I done something to upset you? Last night was-”

“Last night was fine, Sherlock. Also not something I want to discuss in public. I need to set something straight between us.” Sherlock remained silent as John took a deep breath. “This thing we've been doing. Everything that's happened. It's all good.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“I know it is.”

“What I mean, Sherlock, is that's all it is. A thing. We're best friends, but it doesn't go beyond that. What we have is special in its own way, yeah, but it's completely different from what Mary and I have.”

“Obviously, we're not married.”

“No, you're not getting it. Christ.” John pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He didn't want to say it point blank, because it would only sound more harsh that way, but he was having no other choice. Sherlock couldn't be that damned socially awkward. “Sherlock, I can't love you. Not the way you love me. I'm sorry.”

“I know.” John stared at him, his breath hitching in his throat.

“You know? And that's fine?”

“I never said it was fine.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I need you.” The usual calm and collected visage the detective wore disappeared from his face, sadness etched across every feature. It broke John's heart to see Sherlock so hurt and broken inside. He was normally so strong and collected. He had always made it clear that any show of affection was just human error, and it was something that would only cause pain in the end. For some reason John had been able to break through that part of the detective, and now Sherlock had become obsessed to the point where he didn't seem to care anymore. On the outside he was still himself, he was still rude and an insufferable arse on a regular basis. But inside he was broken. 

“Why me?”

“Because you saved me. Just as I saved you. You cared when no one else did.” The detective set his hand beneath John's jaw and lifted his face so that they were staring into each other's eyes. “You care and that's all that matters to me.”

“But I can't love you like you want me to.”

“Don't leave me alone, John. That is all I ask.” The doctor closed his eyes as Sherlock kissed him lightly, drawing back to create distance between them. “Promise me.”

“I promise. I may not be able to give you what you need, but I won't leave you alone.” The detective smiled sadly and held out his hand to John, who took it with a bit of hesitation. 

“Care for some late lunch?”

“Sure, yeah. Where do you want to go?”

“Angelo's?” John smiled. The memories came flooding back from when they first met, the night that Sherlock made his life mean something. They had helped each other in so many ways since then, and years later they were still together, even if it was a confusing mess of emotions, they were still there for one another and that wouldn't change. 

“Angelo's it is, then.” 

“Good. Then we are returning to the flat.” John blushed and dropped Sherlock's hand, realizing at once that they were still in front of Scotland Yard. He knew what that was code for.

“Sherlock...”

“You owe me after last night. Cruel of you to leave me in such a state.”

“Okay, fine. Just don't talk about it right here.” 

“Oh, that's right. You're not gay. Sorry.”

“Fucking smart arse.” 

They left Scotland Yard feeling much better than when they had arrived, the weather the nicest it had been in a while. They decided to walk instead of taking a cab due to John's insecurities, his memories from the night before still fresh. He was sure it wasn't the worst of Sherlock's ideas he had planned, which he was almost certain the detective had many things planned for the next time John couldn't make it back to 221B.


End file.
